


Spiders Web

by scriberefabulasfortes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Futa, Gratuitous French, Herm, Intersex, Latex, Other, Overbooty, hermaphrodite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scriberefabulasfortes/pseuds/scriberefabulasfortes
Summary: Tracer's fallen into a bit of a sticky situation, and is as Widowmakers mercy. Can the agent of Overwatch hold out against the assassins devious interrogation techniques, or will she succumb to the spiders kss?





	

Lena Oxton had become, perhaps, a bit too used to waking up in strangers beds at times. Hey, she was a grown woman and could what she damn well pleased!  
…  
Still, the straps were a bit much. 

 

She’d opened her eyes a moment ago, and when she’d tried to sit up, she’d found out several important things. The first, and most pressing, was that her arms and legs were bound to the bed she was on.  
The second was, quite simply, that she was nude other than the bit of tech keeping her locked to “here” and “now” rather than drifting through the temporal aether. The air played over her bared breasts and the half hard morning wood she was sporting.  
The last?  
She stared up as a series of red eye like lights slowly dimmed from the shadows, the rooms lights ramping up to “dim” rather than “pitch black” to reveal a familiar dusky purple skinned woman. 

“Ah, mon cher. You finally wake.” Widowmaker purred. 

 

The sniper wore her usual outfit. Her long hair hung back in a loose braid, while her body was covered in a tight, form fitting latex and leather catsuit that, much to Tracers chagrin, began to have profound effects on her dick. 

“What the hell’s goin on? Untie me you--”  
A finger to her lips silenced the Tracer--though it might have been Widowmaker sliding into the bed and straddling her hips. “You fell into my web, _petite mouche. Et cette araignée donc aime jouer avec elle ... la nourriture.”_

 

“Speak english you poncy continental!” Lena growled, struggling in her bonds. Her legs were splayed open, her breasts on display, and everything visible. She flushed, biting back a gasp as Widow knelt down, pressing her latex clad groin against the time hopping agents half erect member. 

 

“Mmm, if you insist, I will use your heathen tongue. But you are at my mercy, mon amour, and your Mercy did show me such a wonderful way to...play. I am going to interrogate you, _belle femme_ , and you will tell me everything you know.” She leaned down then, her lips ghosting over Tracers cheek before tugging gently at her earlobe. The woman shivered at their cool touch. “You are mine, _mon beau jouet_ , to do with as I wish.” 

She was crouched over Tracers form, hands above either shoulder, the line of her dusky skin drawing the eye between her breasts. She knelt again, pressing her groin against Tracers own and slowly grinding back and forth. “Tell me the secrets of Overwatch.” She half whispered, lips brushing against the others. 

 

Tracer shuddered, hips twitching as she resisted the urge to buck up. She glared up and tried to bring her head forward to smash it against the snipers face--she just leaned back and laughed though. Her hips kept rocking, a deceptively simple motion that rubbed the smooth, almost slick material between her thighs against Tracers cock, now fully erect and beginning to drool. 

 

“Fuck off! Not telling you anything!” She snarled, yanking fruitlessly at her bindings. She bit her lip as Widowmakers hand slid down her own body before wrapping around her erection, slowly stroking it. The material felt amazing against her hot, engorged flesh. “Stop! Oh, fffffff--uck! Stop!” She groaned. 

 

“What ever is the matter? _N'êtes-vous pas profiter de notre jeu?_ ” Murmured Widowmaker. She slid down then, letting that cock rasp and glide over every inch of skin and leather between her groin and her breasts. Her hand grasped the thick member again, lips pressing almost featherlight kisses against the base of it as her hand stroked up and down. 

“Yes-No! Nonono, Mmmff. You evil bii--aaah!” Tracer whimpered as the tip of a tongue delicately traced just under the mushroom head. “I’m not telling you anything! You can’t make me talk!” She said, though the way her hips moved, the almost desperate way they shifted as she bit back another whimpering moan told that the boast might have held the seeds of a lie. 

 

“Non? Perhaps. But I do have ways of making you talk, _elle des beaux cris_. Ways of breaking you.” She rubbed her thumb just under the tip of Tracers cock, eliciting a whimper from the girl. “When I am done, _mine d’amant_ , you will tell me whatever I wish.” 

Tracers reaction was cut off, turned into an inarticulate series of noises when Widowmaker pressed the tip of her tongue against the base of her dick and slowly, torturously dragged it upwards until she could wrap her perfectly painted lips around the tip. Staring up into the Overwatch agents eyes, she suckled deceptively gently while trailing her fingertips over the girl's shaft. Slowly she pressed downward, tongue undulating against the bottom of the shaft as she bobbed her head, steadily further each time. Tracers hips twitched as she writhed there, distress and pleasure mixing beautifully on her face. Widowmaker swallowed once, the motion pressing her throat and tongue against the cock in new and interesting ways. 

 

“Stop...please stop.” Whimpered Lena, shuddering. Widow drew up off the cock, letting out a soft gasp of her own once she could breath. She kept stroking the shaft with one hand as she pressed her lips against one ball and then the next, drawing them into her mouth with her tongue for a gentle suckle each as she drew the woman inexorably closer to the edge. 

“Cum for me...let me taste your essence, _mon amour_ , and shatter for me. Accept your fate.” She whispered before taking Tracers cock between her lips again, bobbing her head faster. She took it into her throat again, as if it were nothing, and swallowed again before drawing back and pushing forward again. Tracer whimpered and bit her lip harder, eyes closing as she turned her willpower inward, desperately trying to stave off what was happening. Her cock was twitching in the hot, wet confines of Widowmakers mouth, her lips practically caressing the shaft everything they drew back, and the undulations of her throat coaxing forth thick gobs of precum, drooled forth near every second, that the sniper swallowed without complaint. 

 

“Widow--Widowmaker, Amelia, I--” She bit her lip as her hips shifted and pushed up, desperate for release even as she tried to hold back. “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t, you can’t make me, you can’t! I won’t talk, I won’t c-c-um, you can’t--” She let out a little mewl of pleasure as Widowmaker drew back, only the tip still in her mouth and let her tongue swirl around it, stroking the shaft with a free hand. “Ah! Ahh, n-no. No more, I won’t!” 

Widowmaker allowed herself a small smile, and pressed herself back down, swallowing her whole again. She gulped once--twice. A third swallow as Tracer let out a mewling whine, before she stiffened. 

The purple woman shoved Tracers hips down with one hand, controlling her motions as the Overwatch again trembled and twitched. Her protestations fell into unintelligible groans as her cock twitched and spasmed, balls tightening as she began to cum despite her best efforts. 

 

Widowmaker continued to swallow--some of the seed washed back, filling her mouth around the thick cock, but she kept herself there, ignoring air as she lengthened the girls orgasm, intent on breaking her, on destroying her will to defy. Finally, finally, the cock stopped twitching and spasming, growing just the slightest bit softer, and she pulled off. She crawled up the nude woman's body and pressed against her, flesh to latex and leather as lips touched, and she let Tracer taste something of herself. 

 

She licked her lips clean as the kiss broke and she gave Tracer an almost gentle smile. “Well, mon cher, are you ready to talk?” She pressed her cheek against the woman's, cupping a breast in one hand, thumb flicking across her nippl. 

“Mm...Mm. No. M’not beaten yet, you...mmf. You french....french.” Widowmaker rolled her eyes at the attempted insult before smirking and raising herself up. 

 

“Truly? Your will is stronger than I gave credit for, _gémissant fille_. I will have to try more...extreme methods of information extraction.” She cupped both breasts for a moment before drawing a nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching tight. Tracer let out a little squeak at the sharp sting, though her eyes went wide as Widowmaker reached down and undid a small catch--a section of her suit peeled off, tossed aside carelessly, revealing her own sex. She glistened with arousal as she slid down to Tracers still stick cock, and pressed the half hard thing between her nether lips. “Well? This is your last chance before I proceed to the most potent methods I have at my disposal.” She said with a smile curling her lips. 

Tracer shivered but stared up at her with that glint of defiance. She smirked and growled, “Never gonna happen luv. You can’t win. Try, and I’ll have you moaning my name before I ever get close! Never gonna happen. You. Can’t. Break. M--” She was cut off with another squeak as Widowmaker pinched her nipple again, rolling it between thumb and forefinger as her hips shifted, sliding her slit entrance along that already hardening cock. 

 

“You are so...arrogant. How very...English. You will fail. You will break. You will tell me the secrets you know.” She leaned down then, tongue caressing a now stiff nipple before she kissed her neck. “And you will be mine.” 

 

She shifted up then, pressing the tip of that cock against her entrance. Her lips locked with the struggling Tracers, before she drove her hips down, sheathing the woman inside of her in one motion. Tracer stiffened, eyes flaring open at the abrupt sensation of being surrounded by a velvet coated iron vice, heedless of the tongue invading her mouth.

The kiss broke and Widowmaker pushed herself upright, smirking at the girl. “Well? You seem so quiet now. No protestations of your strength?” She taunted. She sighed, and clenched, working her muscles in ways an unaugmented woman simply couldn’t. Her cunt caressed the cock inside like a gloved hand. Tracer yanked fruitlessly at her bindings, shaking with pleasure as her hips twitched. 

 

“Shut it! I’m not--you’re not getting anything! Nothing. Noth-mmm. Oh fuck..” She hissed as Widow started to roll her hips, rocking them back and forth. “S--ss-stop! You’re not--I’m not breaking, you evil--ahh!” She chewed on the inside of a cheek with a shudder, hips shifting practically of their own accord, trying to fuck into the tight warmth capturing her. 

 

“Ah ah ah, _mon amour_. I am in charge here. I dictate the pace of things.” She licked her lips, smiling down at Tracer with a little smirk. “I decide when you cum.” She purred. “You cum when I say. You cum at my command. You are mine, _petite fille_ , and you will shatter beautifully.” She raised her hips then before ramming them back down with surprising roughness. She began to ride a writhing and moaning Tracer, working herself up and down that shaft in a brutal display of thrusting hips for a few seconds at a time. 

In between, she simply sat there and let her internal muscles work. The inner walls or her slick sex clenching down, caressing the thing within her, drawing gasps and moans from the steadily declining girl. 

 

“Can’t--can’t break.” Whispered the girl almost deliriously as Widow settled into another short session of teasing, of letting her talented cunt torture the poor girl. Sweat soaked, she threw her head back with a throaty moan. “Please...please, no more. I can’t. I won’t break. Please.” She gasped, unsure of what she was begging for anymore. 

 

“Please? _Dites seulement le mot, et cela termine mon amour._ ” Purred Widowmaker. “You need only tell me what I want, Ms Oxton.” 

“Mmmgg. Never...never. Won’t--won’t tell you. I won’t cum!” She shuddered, the lie obvious. “I won’t, I won’t!” 

“Very well…” Widowmaker murmured, chuckling half to herself. “If you insist. Never say i gave you no chance.” She leaned down and kissed her, almost gently, before she gripped tight with her nethers and settled into a pounding pace. 

Tracer shuddered and moaned, mewling little whimpers that made Widow herself gasp with arousal. She was so close, and she only needed this agent to finish before her. She bit her lip and rode her hard, bucking her hips, a pounding rhythm that she knew would finish her opponent off soon. 

Tracer bit her lip as well, hard enough to leave an imprint as she yanked at her bindings and writhed, a moaning mess. Desperately she tried to control herself, tried to do anything to keep from spilling over, but it was for nothing. 

 

Too soon, too soon, she bucked her hips and let out a wild cry. Widowmaker’s own cry followed soon after. The warmth spilling into her, the knowledge that she had won, that Tracer had broken below her, drove her over the edge, and she clenched tight around that cock, milking it for every drop of seed, prolonging the orgasm as best as was possible. 

Finally she let herself slump down, laying alongside the girl with a smile. “So...tell me, mon amour, tell me what I want to hear.” She whispered, lips caressing Tracers ear. 

Tracer looked over, her eyes lazily lidded as she giggled. “Mmff. Fine...fine you won.” She leaned leaned over and kissed Widowmaker, before softly whispering, “I love you, Amelia.” 

Widow chuckled and returned the kiss, deftly unlocking her bonds with one hand. “And I, you.” She smiled as Tracer rubbed her wrists, the two curling up against one another. “I did not drive you too far?” 

“Mm, nah. Was a lot of fun.” Lena murmured, kissing the hollow of her lover's throat. “B’sides, tomorrow’s my turn.” She said with a little giggle.


End file.
